


technicolor lover, sate my heart

by ElasticElla



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 04:59:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: It’s version 439 and Vicky is done. Michael’s Good Place is an utter failure, and Vicky isn’t throwing away her future over trying to fix it.





	technicolor lover, sate my heart

**Author's Note:**

> holy fuck it's femslash february, this one's for my celestial cryptid darling katie <3
> 
> title from new radicals' technicolor lover

Vicky is just three hundred and twenty-eight steps away from becoming an architect. It isn’t an easy gig to get- the turnover rate is nearly nonexistent, a retiring ever millennia or so. Add to that the incessant nepotism and, well- there’s a reason her plan started with exactly six hundred and sixty-six steps. She thought it was adorably fitting in the beginning, working her way up from being a receptionist to a tester to an inventor. Michael’s new torture design was supposed to skip a few hundred steps, bring her right to the top as a new junior architect. 

She should have known it was too good to be true. 

There’s only one way to salvage everything now, and it still might result in an eternity of accounting duty (the most boring job of all).

“Janet! I need a train to HQ.” 

Janet pops in, “Right away. Would you like any refreshments or-”

Rolling her eyes, Vicky pushes past her. “Now.” 

Taking up an entire bench, she lays down. Somehow Janets still haven’t figured out how to speed up the train, but she mine as well get some rest now. 

The train starts up, and a panicked scream is heard from outside, “Noooooooooooo!” 

Vicky chuckles, nestling into her hands. Ah the sweet lullaby of an enemy’s desperate realization that they’re doomed. 

“Bortles!” is screamed then, and her eyebrows come together- that wasn’t Michael. One of the damned humans, and her eyes open to a confusing sight: a bright white light and fire. 

Heat flares over her skin, and Vicky knows no more.

.

Vicky wakes up in a new place. A park to be precise. Whoever created this place is clearly better than Michael- it’s absolutely dismal. It’s cold and rainy, a dramatic fog making it impossible to see more than a hundred meters ahead. _This_ is the kind of place she should be acting in, could capitalize on all the silly humans’ fears of darkness and mystery and pain. 

While her arrival was odd to say the least, she’s happy to forget all about it if she can find the neighborhood’s architect and get an apprenticeship. Or really, any job- she just wants to stay. 

“So late to be wandering alone,” a voice purrs, and Vicky approaches quietly. 

The speaker is clearly a demon- teeth glinting in the night and basking in the fear the human practically reeks of. It’s a nice disguise, a bit dramatic for Vicky’s tastes- but not everyone is as good an actress as herself. 

“I-I I’m just going h-home.” 

“Normally I wouldn’t,” the demon confesses, and the closer Vicky gets the more attractive her meatsuit is. She did designed it well- long nails for clawing, lips reminiscent of blood, and oh glory, she has fangs. (Vicky can admit she can’t pull off fangs, each time she’s tried has resulted in too many split lips and blood-soaked teeth. Which is unfortunately less scary and more ridiculous looking.)

“One might say I’m on a diet,” she continues, and the human is nodding along even though they still look like they’re about to faint. “But what is it you mundanes have? Ah yes, a cheat day.” 

She covers their mouth before a scream can get out- and that’s rather odd. But perhaps there are more humans around that don’t know where they are yet? Or to make hunting them more fun? Vicky isn’t sure, her whole body clenching when the demon’s teeth sink into the human, blood dribbling down their neck.

And that’s the moment she realizes something is _very_ wrong. 

Dead souls can’t bleed. It’s a mixed blessing, allowing for eternal torture but missing the physicality that’s found in the living realms. Many demons speak longingly of returning to earth to wreck havoc, but Vicky’s never been one of those demons. She likes her structure and rules, and no matter how difficult the climb, her corporate ladder.

With a panicked thought, she reaches for her true form. Her body glitches, won’t transform though she is able to summon flames. It’s good enough, for a half-second she thought she’d been drawn into some absurd reincarnation character redemption quest bullshit. She’s still a demon, though limited, but demonic all the same. 

There’s a distant crumple, and the woman is before her in a flash, eyes still bright with bloodlust. 

“And who are you, my petite voyeur?” 

Vicky smiles, “Fellow demon of course. Is anyone in charge up here? How do you contact the Bad Place?” 

She takes her hand in a surprisingly cool and strong grip, “You must come to my home. There hasn’t been a demonic leader- a creator?- for thousands of years, before I was born.” 

“Oh,” Vicky murmurs. “How are you here?” 

“Drinks first,” she insists. 

Vicky doesn’t get the insistence, but she also knows nothing of the living world outside of fairy tales. It’s amusing that the place she came in would make a perfect torture scene, she must keep it in mind for her architecture days. 

The home she runs them to is nice if saccharine sweet. She pours a tall glass of blood for herself, and children’s tears for Vicky. It’s an impressive vintage, tastes like the children’s crusades. Almost too impressive, and Vicky would laugh if it weren’t so horrible. It’s an old tale that demons can’t destroy those that gift them with their favored objects- an old lie to promote the best bribery. 

“You aren’t a demon, you’re a vampire. Do you even know how to leave this realm?” 

She shakes a hand in the air as if her point is empty. “I’m Camille. Do you truly wish to leave? The stories of hell I’ve heard lately… perhaps a vacation is called for?” 

Her lips come together, she can’t really argue that. And perhaps in a few thousand years Michael’s ploy would be discovered and all of them retired. She’d be free to return if likely punished for going awol. Better punished than destroyed out of anger still burning though. 

“Tell me Camille, what do you do for fun in this realm?” 

Her lips curl up into a smirk, canines poking through, “Allow me to show you.” 

.

Vicky can hardly remember a time before she was striving to become an architect. It isn’t as though she has an angel’s memory, can’t be expected to remember past eons. She knows her mind isn’t like before- the knowledge of striving to be eliminates that- but there’s a calm that she imagines was there once long ago. 

Living with Camille is simple and pleasurable. It’s lazy mornings that must be restrained to the bedroom so her new darling doesn’t burn, toying with humans for fun, bloody kisses, and creating utter chaos whenever she wishes. Truly, Camille should have been born a full demon for all the delicious torture and despair she revels in. 

Vicky is happy, satisfied. It’s new and dangerous, and right now, she wouldn’t take a first class ticket back to the Bad Place. She has all she needs, better still- she has all she wants.


End file.
